A Day to Remember
by EstelRaca
Summary: Enjolras is the only one who remembers Grantaire's birthday. For Grantaire, that's more than enough. Fluff. Modern-day reincarnation.


**Author's Note:** This was written as a prompt for a friend's birthday. Warning for fluff, modern reincarnation, and comic book nerdiness.

_A Day to Remember_

None of them remember Grantaire's birthday.

He shouldn't blame them, really. They've had other things on their minds. It's been almost a year since they met, a year during which they've been trying to juggle dealing with the current political debacles of their generation while getting flashes of previous lives thrust upon them. The fact that they've all come through it sane and happy and together is really a testament to their fortitude and enduring affection for one another. So a little thing like a forgotten birthday shouldn't sting so much, especially when he's only mentioned the date twice, once when their group was first forming and once a month ago.

The date's on his Facebook page, of course, but he's probably the one who spends the most time on social media sites.

And everyone remembered Joly's birthday last month, but that had partly been due to Bossuet arranging a surprise party.

And it's _stupid_, the fact that he wants to cry because no one's sent him a quick "Happy Birthday" text, and he's just going to sit here and drink and stop thinking they don't care about him.

He doesn't need to compare what they do for him to what they do for each other. Especially when some of the others seem more exasperated than amused or touched by the efforts put into celebrating their existence—Enjolras had seemed extremely non-plussed at the start of his party four months ago, though Courfeyrac had managed to change that fact quickly enough.

Tears blur his vision for a moment, and he blinks them away determinedly. The Amis don't need to throw a party for him to prove that they care about him.

Just letting him associate with them is enough, really. After all, how many people actually wanted to do even _that_ after spending enough time with him?

Draining the rest of his drink in one burning swallow, Grantaire hauls himself to his feet and turns toward the door of the café. It was foolish of him to come here. Thinking that he might surprise them as they set up a party for him had been a silly little pipe-dream, and they don't deserve to bear the brunt of his depression and disappointment today.

Especially because he'd really like for them to still want his company tomorrow.

He runs into Enjolras at the door of the café. Quite literally, his feet not stopping in time, and if Enjolras didn't have such good balance and control of his body he's certain they would both have ended up in a sprawl on the floor. As it is, only the package that Enjolras was carrying ends up on the ground.

"Sorry." Grantaire drops to his knees to retrieve the package. "Hell, Enjolras, I'm so sorry, I should've been watching where I was going, I hope there wasn't anything breakable…"

Trailing off, Grantaire studies the package. It's a misshapen thing wrapped in old newspaper, likely two items stacked atop one another, one thin and long while the other is a five-inch cube sitting atop it. And scrawled across the newspaper in thick black marker is Grantaire's name.

Enjolras settles down on his heels beside Grantaire, offering his hand to help Grantaire up. "We should move. We're blocking the door."

"Right." Grantaire allows himself to be pulled to his feet and deeper into the café, to the back corner that belongs to the Amis. "This… this is for me?"

"Yes." Enjolras speaks the word simply, as though it doesn't matter. "It's your birthday today."

"Yeah, but… I thought…" Grantaire can feel his cheeks burn even as realizes how foolish and needy any of the ways he could end that sentence would sound.

_I thought everyone forgot._

_I thought no one cared._

"Feel free to open your gift whenever you want." Enjolras inclines his head toward the package. "It isn't much, but I hope that you enjoy them."

For a moment Grantaire considers not opening it. Perhaps he'll keep the package in his room, in a place of honor, and look at it whenever he starts feeling depressed, to remind himself that Enjolras—_Enjolras—_cares enough about him to get him a gift. To celebrate his birth, his existence, and his hands tighten around the package, causing the trade paperback that's almost certainly the bottom half of the gift to bend.

Curiosity wins out, and he carefully searches for the tape holding the improvised wrapping paper together. He can always frame the part of the paper that has his name on it—his name, written in Enjolras' hand. Raising his eyes briefly to meet Enjolras', he smiles. "Newspaper as gift wrap?"

"Recycling." Enjolras shrugs. "I debated printing pictures off of four-chan, like Bossuet did for my birthday, but that site is a bit… daunting."

Grantaire pauses, his mind unable to process the concept of Enjolras attempting to navigate 4-chan.

For him.

Looking for pictures for him.

Looking back down at the package, grinning, Grantaire finishes prying the tape apart and smoothes out the part of the paper with his name, setting it carefully aside. A box of tea and a trade paperback comic book slide out into his hand.

"Tea?" Grantaire can't keep his eyebrows down where they belong as he looks up at Enjolras. "I think you may have gotten my taste in drinks a bit wrong."

"Green tea and ginger tea. They're supposed to be good for hangovers." Enjolras meets his gaze evenly. "Because I am never going to intentionally buy you a drink."

"Ah… yeah." Grantaire sets the box of tea aside, blushing fiercely. Stupid. He's having a nice moment with Enjolras. He doesn't need to make it awkward by bringing up the most obvious of his many, many failings. Turning his attention to the comic, he finds himself grinning again. It's a trade paperback in the _Astonishing X-Men_ line, from Marjorie Liu's run, and he can't help but laugh as he studies the familiar cover. "Really? This is the one that you got me?"

"Do you not like it?" Enjolras sits just a bit straighter, a hint of unease in the way that his fingers drum against the table. "I have the receipt. I can take it back, if there's something else you'd prefer."

"No. No, it's great." Hugging the book to himself, Grantaire continues to smile. "I'm touched. I just… I didn't even know you'd noticed that I like comics."

"It would have been hard not to notice you and Combeferre and your argument about Alan Moore, or the fact that you made it a point to bring in steadily more… outlandish comics for the two weeks that followed." Smiling faintly, Enjolras relaxes again. "That conversation had Combeferre turning some of the more interesting colors I've seen him turn. Especially when you somehow turned it from a discussion of Moore's work to a discussion of comics as a valid medium for art and intellectual discourse, period, as well as the nature and purpose of artistic deconstructions of genres."

"Yeah. For a few minutes there you might have thought I actually read them for something other than the fan-service and the joy of watching the bad guys get beaten up." Grantaire pulls the book away from his chest and smiles widely again as he looks at the cover. "So, did you actually notice that I read Marvel comics or did you get this for other reasons?"

"I notice what you bring in here." Enjolras looks mildly defensive again.

"Oh really?" Still grinning, Grantaire studies the blond man. "Can you tell me what I've read recently, then?"

For a moment he doesn't think Enjolras is going to play along. Then Enjolras gives his head a small shake and leans forward. "You've had a bunch of Avengers comics."

"That's cheating. You know about the Avengers because Joly and Bossuet made us all go see the movie with them, and Thor and Iron Man are rather hard to mistake for anyone else." Grantaire also leans forward, enjoying this. It probably doesn't mean anything. Enjolras' always aware of his surroundings and his friends. He could probably list off the three million books that Combeferre's carried into the café over the last year—he's probably read all of them, too. Still, it's nice to know that Enjolras' _noticed_ him this much. "Anything else?"

"There was the one with the girl with bunny ears and the giant. Combeferre says that one's actually really good, and you seemed to get quite invested in it."

"_I Kill Giants_. Yeah, it's really good." The stupid book almost made him cry. Granted, he was really drunk at the time, but still, that had to count for something. Though he's not sure he likes his taste and Combeferre's actually lining up. "Any others you remember?"

"There was the one with an old Superman on the cover. Fighting a guy with a lightning bolt—maybe an old Flash?" Enjolras hesitates, clearly grappling with the memory to get it to come clearer. "And angels fighting in the sky. Ah, right, _Kingdom Come_, that was the name. You seemed to really enjoy that one."

"Ang—no." Grantaire shakes his head. "Just, no. Those weren't angels in the sky. That was Wonder Woman and Batman."

"Oh. That would explain why one angel was dressed in black, then." Enjolras pauses, his eyes unfocused again. "Do they frequently use angelic iconography for Wonder Woman? Because that's—"

"I don't know. I've tended to be more of a Marvel guy, myself. I like the mutants and the darker tone to the universe." Creating a little mountain of his gifts, with the paper on the bottom and then the comic and then the box of tea, Grantaire smiles across at Enjolras. "Combeferre probably knows. He seems to know everything about everything. It's rather unfair."

"You know a great deal yourself. More than you usually let on or actually choose to engage with." Enjolras cuts himself off, drawing a slow breath. "That's a discussion for another day, though. I'm glad you seem to like the presents, Grantaire."

"I like them a lot." Grantaire finds himself hugging the pile to his chest protectively. "And I actually haven't read the trade yet and I don't own it, so it's perfect. Even if I think you had ulterior motives in choosing _that_ one."

"Oh?" Enjolras raises one pale eyebrow. "What ulterior motives?"

"Come on. It's the first comic to ever have a gay wedding in it." Grantaire flushes, his eyes dropping away from Enjolras, thinking of another ulterior motive that he wishes the gift had. "It fits right into your political ideology. You're doing the whole buy-what-you-want-to-see thing that you've talked about sometimes."

"It's also written by a woman. Given that comics still tend to be a male-dominated industry, I'd say that's another point in its favor." Enjolras reaches across the table, his hand resting briefly on Grantaire's. "But mainly it's something that I thought you would enjoy, and that was the primary reason I bought it for you."

For a moment Grantaire can't breathe. All he can feel is the heat of Enjolras' hand on his, a ghost-memory surfacing in his mind of another time that Enjolras took his hand, another place, another life.

Then Enjolras pulls his hand away again, and the world snaps back into focus. Clearing his throat, Grantaire tries to think of what he wants to say. "I… thank you."

"You're very welcome, Grantaire." Enjolras smiles, a true, full smile, aimed at him, and Grantaire feels his heart skip a beat and tears prick at his eyes again.

It's stupid. He doesn't even _like_ his birthday—perhaps because half the time he doesn't even like himself. So why does it matter so much to him that Enjolras remembered? "I thought no one remembered, and I… damn, I'm being melodramatic. Just… thank you."

Enjolras purses his lips. "Did you tell the others?"

"I… no." Shaking his head, Grantaire studies the table. "Which is another stupid thing, I know, it doesn't matter all that much, I'm just being foolish today and you should really ignore me—"

"All men want to be noticed, by their family and friends if nothing else. All men want to be acknowledged." Enjolras shrugs. "The day's not over yet. Some of the others may still remember. And even if they don't… tell them about it next time, Grantaire. It's not fair to expect everyone to remember everything."

"Yeah. Not everyone can be you." Grantaire smiles, standing and gathering up his gifts. "I'm going to go put these in my car. I'll be back for the meeting."

Enjolras nods. "Happy birthday, Grantaire."

Grantaire can't think of anything to say in response, any way to convey the swell of joy and hope that those simple words bring rushing through his heart, so he doesn't say anything.

No one else wishes him a happy birthday that day, but it doesn't matter.

Still, when the rest of the Amis throw him a surprise party that weekend, it's probably the most surprised—and ecstatic—he's ever been in his life.


End file.
